Ebone Claus
Ebone Claus is a tribute created by Cait for ClovelyMarvelous, also known as Alex. Please do not edit this page or use him without his permission. If you want to use him in your Games put a message on his wall [http://thehungergamesrp.wikia.com/wiki/Message_Wall:ClovelyMarvelous here]. Basic Information Name: Ebone Claus Pronunciation: E-bon Cl-ow-s Age: 14 District: 10 Height: 5'6 Weight: 135.4 Ibs Appearance: According to most people who have met him, Ebone has the merriest smile of anybody in Panem. He is never seen without it and one other thing: A Christmas hat. Even when it’s not the holidays or when it’s not cold, Ebone always wears it albeit when he has a shower or goes to bed. It’s sat neatly on top of his cropped brunette hair. He also has wide brown eyes that sparkle with joy, representing his youth. Personality: Ebone is a very chirpy child who smiles all of the time. A very lively and happy fellow, he is always seen singing to himself or greeting others with cheerfulness that one would never have seen before. As a caring individual, he is always trying to help others. This can make him seem a bit overzealous over human company, but he’s just trying to be nice. He is very loyal to his friends and family, but he can be a bit overprotective as well. Ebone is also very hyper, unable to keep still for even ten seconds. He loses his interest easily, unless it’s a social event where he can unleash his talkative nature. Underneath this bubbly side, though, is a more antisocial one. Ebone, if provoked enough, (which in itself is majorly difficult) will become more snappish and hot-headed than usual. He will be much less talkative and more solitary. If anybody wants to interrupt him, he is more than likely to holler at them to go away. The caring side of him will completely vanish, making Ebone more selfish. It’s as difficult to calm him down as it is to infuriate him. Backstory Believe it or not, Ebone was not always the cheerful boy he is nowadays. In fact, if anything, he used to act in completely the opposite way (Though he still does in his anger bouts). He was the delinquent in a rich family where Christmas was the most precious time of the year. Back then, he used to believe it was an escape from a reality they should remain in. He hated to see people ‘faking’ joy for one measly day: It was all a pointless masquerade for people with no true life, according to him. In his younger years, he had a childhood friend called Bolton Crookston. He was also from a rich family, much like Ebone. However when they were both seven, he died from pneumonia. This may have been the reason why Ebone became a recluse and shut away what remained of his joy, but there were other factors to account as well. He became a much more impolite lad, never wanting to speak to anybody or his family. They suspected he was still torn by the storms in his head formed by the death of his friend. They never knew that this side of him had existed prior to the incident. Life only seemed to worsen in the eyes of Bolton as he became acquainted with a butler called Promus. He was a bottled up individual who often had to receive the brunt of Ebone’s rants and chores. Much like the rest of the Clauses, he enjoyed Christmas and its traditions too. Up to the age of thirteen, Ebone continued to sneer at his family members with disgust. He remained a true hater of Christmas. This behaviour has spiralled further to turn him into a selfish and unsympathetic man who only wanted one thing: Money. As a child, he thought that it would be a good idea to bribe the mayor to ban Christmas in the district. On one cold winter’s night, on Christmas Eve, a book fell from one of the shelves in Ebone’s bedroom. He was intrigued by it at first, because he had never come across it before. Allowing his newfound curiosity to guide him, he opened the book to the first page. Out of it, a letter slipped from its safety onto the carpet-lain floor. Ebone bent down, picked it up and began to read. “Dear Ebone, '' ''How have things been my old friend? As I write this I can feel my life ebb further and further away from my soul. I fear I may not finish this in time, but I will try. And if there are any mysterious marks at the end… you’ll know what happened. I know how much you hate the festive spirit… however I beg of you to believe me when I say this: Your hate could cost you your life. Yes, that’s right. You read it right. I overheard your parents talking about moving you to an orphanage purely because they don’t get your views. I’ve heard terrible stories about them, and I’m sure you don’t want to end up rocketing there anytime soon. Now, I’m planning on having three people communicate to you through the book. They are figures who I hope you’ll recognise (I put hope because the first person will deliver news of the book to the second person, and so on and so forth. Your old friend, Bolton.” Ebone could scarcely believe that it was Bolton who wrote it. The only reason he could bring himself to do so was the handwriting. Not wanting to disrespect his wishes, Ebone read on to see a bunch of paragraphs on one page in different handwriting. He gulped and read on. “Dear Ebone, You might not remember me, but I remember you. I was Fran, your baby sister. There is a reason you don’t want to recognise me: You were the one who caused my death.” Ebone scoffed as he read it: How could a member of the paranormal write this. In spite of it, he continued to read on. “Don’t believe it? How about I revive it in your mind? It was Christmas day. Everybody else in our family was celebrating; most of all, our mummy because it was my first Christmas in her… womb, was it? Anatomy aside, you were abandoned upstairs in your room because you hated ‘you-know-what’. Mummy called you down for supper, which you reluctantly went downstairs for. When the family saw your face, they went ballistic… in a good manner. You despised the attention. You despised the games that were hosted after. It was when your mother announced it was present opening time that you snapped: You screamed. You shouted. Venom flew out of your mouth, putting down Christmas as a waste of time. That wasn’t the end of it though: You actually said that you wished you were in a different family so that they wouldn’t have to ignore you in favour of me and your other sister, Gwen. Mummy was stressed. Mummy felt pain in her tummy. Something was wrong. Somehow she survived, but with it came the loss of me. You didn’t understand. But when my spirit watched over you as you heard the news, you begun to weep and even felt guilty. Who wouldn’t after being the cause of death of your own sibling? Because it was so distressing, you locked it out of your memory never to see it again. '' ''No Ebone, this was not a made-up tale to make you feel guilty: Everything mentioned did happen. However I want you to take note of how Christmas was ruined for your family, and who ruined it. How could this have been prevented? And biggest of all, what measures could the culprit have done to make this change. Yours lovingly, Fran Claus. X” Ebone stopped and stared at the page for a while. He did indeed remember the incident well… almost too well. Without even realising it he shed a tear in memory of the sister that never was born. The letter seemed to have succeeded in its task. All of a sudden, Ebone saw the words begin to jumble up. He watched on disconcertedly as it formed the image of two children: One as a remarkable reincarnation of Ebone on paper, and one of a much younger girl smiling and holding his hand. He presumed that the girl would’ve been Fran. But just as he blinked, the pictures returned to normal. Ebone blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice, before he at last turned the page to different calligraphy in different ink. “Dear Ebone, This is your faithful butler Promus speaking. I would like to thank your parents for giving me today and tomorrow off. I would have expected such marvellous beings to be successfully reproduced in you… but I guess there can be exceptions to every rule. I don’t know if you knew this, but I have a family too: I have a wonderful wife, two daughters and two sons. They, like most of the people in this district do, help me struggle to survive and live for longer and longer. Of course, this just means I’m buying time, but one of my kids cannot go on for much longer: Little Solomon. He’s the angel of the family, the glue who helps us stick together. Currently he has an infection and he is also crippled. Walking around for him is like a weak tribute winning in a fight against a career in the hunger games: Very difficult. Lately he has been coughing so much that I think he will choke and suffocate. And what makes it worse is that his mood, along with that of his siblings, is often doused out by the mere mention of your name. They don’t believe I should get the amount of pay I get for taking care of you. Apparently, you’re a monster. Lately, I heard of another family making a mockery out of you by comparing you with bears, snakes and spiders,” Ebone shuddered as he imagined himself as a spider, which was awful for him because he never liked the critters. “I would advise you to do what you must to regain respect, for I predict a horrible future awaits you. Thank you for reading this, Promus” At the bottom of the page was a tiny photograph of Promus’s family. Him and his wife were kissing, whilst their daughters stood alongside one another. The eldest son was in the middle, embracing them both with one arm each. And of course, Solomon was at the side-lines sitting in a chair. He appeared very miserable. After examining it closely, Ebone noticed a slight crease. The smaller section that was split was also loose, meaning he could look under it. The result: A message: ‘If these shadows remain in place, the boy will die.” Now more and more paranoid, Ebone examined his room in case there was anything out of place. Nothing. It was still normal. The messages were begin to haunt him, as if there was a subliminal message. And thus, with great hesitance, Ebone flipped it over to the next page. There was no writing, but there was a picture. There was also an arrow indicating to turn another page. But first, Ebone examined the image. In it, children were laughing and smiling as their parents watched on with a weak grin. Below it, there was an inscription which described the scene as ‘a merrier Christmas than anybody could hope to imagine: The Grinch among the elves was now dead, leading to a cacophony of cheers from the children. Their parents had to remind them that the person had parents too, and that they would most likely mourn.’ Ebone turned to the next page and saw another image. It displayed a family at a dinner table, staring blankly at their meal. It was Promus’s family, but there was one bare seat. And Little Solomon was nowhere to be seen. The horror in his eyes said it all: He was terrified of what the future could bring. A never-felt-before feeling crossed his heart: One that showed sympathy for the poor child who may or may not pass away. Another arrow guided him to another page. This time, there was an image of a lone girl selling items on her street. A few potential buyers crowded around the table. One of the gentlemanly figures held a partially torn pillow in his hand. As Ebone stared at the pillow, he eventually realised that it was his. There was, as ever, a caption to suit it. He read on: ‘In morte ultima veritas. Vincit veritas in omne re’ Ebone had had Latin lessons before, so he could translate the caption. It had said ‘In death, the final truth prevails in every case’. He was even more perplexed. Nonetheless, he flicked it to the next and final page. And what he saw next was the most horrible thing he had ever seen. On there, there was an image of a girl standing on stage with somebody in peculiar clothing. At the same time there was a boy walking up the steps. One that appeared almost exactly like him. The sight was instantly familiar to him: The reapings. Below that, there were two other images. One showed him as a hero with a crown. On one side stood his supporters, bowing down to him. On the other side stood a group of people who raised their fists in disrespect. The final image though, was what made Ebone lose his mind: His dead body, dismembered. His hands lay at the side of his cadaver, still clutched as if he were trying to grab something. His arms had seemingly vanished, nowhere to be seen in the drawing. His feet were the wrong way round, but at least they were close to the bottom half of the body. One of his legs remained intact in his torso, but the other one had been sliced off. And most gruesome of all was his head, a pool of blood soaking underneath it. He swiftly shut the pages of the book, breaking out into a sweat. After throwing it across the room, he clambered into his bed and waited for sweet dreams to take him away from the world. But it was not to be. In it, three distinct people stood together holding their hands. One was Fran, another was Promus… and the final one was none other than Ebone himself, crying crimson red tears. Everything he had read, every detail, spun itself into the nightmare. It felt as if it really was happening. He watched through his own eyes as he witnessed the stress that caused Fran’s death. He watched on helplessly as Solomon was taken away by a spirit, his head becoming a skeleton for a brief moment. The reapings flashed before his eyes as he got taken away to kill and be killed. He watched on as he was decapitated, before his limbs split apart from the joints. Standing over him was a jet black humanoid figure, glancing down briefly at the body. The colours in the scene slowly faded to black and grey, until the nightmare came to an end. Jerking upright, Ebone noticed first of all that he was very much alive and very much intact. Second of all, he was no longer in the nightmare realm. Finally, he felt very different. It was a good different, one that would mark him as a sprightly figure. Sprinting through his household, he found his family and wished them all a very merry Christmas. They all eyed him in bemusement, but this didn’t last long. They ended up welcoming him into the circle as he handed everybody their presents from under the tree. Because he had been such a Scrooge he had nothing to give or to receive. However, the next day he went out shopping by himself and got at least one gift for every member of his family. He even managed to persuade his parents to give Promus better pay. Since that day, Ebone has always remained his new merry self. He would often buy gifts for random strangers and bid them a good day. He gained many friends from this, and they often attempted to do favours for him. However he always insisted that they didn’t need to do anything, claiming that seeing their satisfaction was the greatest gift they he could ever receive. Ebone was looking forwards to the next Christmas, but sadly for him he was reaped before the time could come. Games Information Weapon(s): Having had no weapon experience due to his rural district, Ebone is unlikely to be able to make up for that in training. However, he will most likely choose a dagger because it’s a very simple weapon that anybody could use. A whip would be his second choice due to prior experience he’s had in herding cattle, but even then that was a one-off event and he likely won’t be able to remember what he did. Strengths: Ebone is a very agile boy, meaning that escaping from danger’s way will be easy for him if the need arises. When combined with his stamina, it means that danger chasing him may or may not catch up. His other main strength lies in his knowledge about nature. Due to him living next to a forest, he will sometimes enter and examine everything around him in there. Weaknesses: Despite what he knows about nature, Ebone is a bit thick in the skull when it comes to any other subjects. Because of how talkative he is, Ebone can irritate his allies unintentionally. When it comes to his friends, he is very reckless as well. Fear(s): After being haunted in his dreams, Ebone has a fear of ghosts. Though he has never ‘seen’ one again, he still believes that somewhere out there, there is a spectre waiting to haunt him in his sleep. He also has a major dislike of spiders, because of their appearance. Alliance(s): Ebone is not fussy about who he joins with, as long as he is not with the careers. Ideally, he wants to be with at least one other person. Reaped or Volunteered: Reaped Reaping Strategy/Outfit: It has never been Ebone’s intention to enter the hunger games, because he believes that killing other kids is stupid. The games to him are only an excuse to allow unnecessary bloodshed. So when he is reaped for them, Ebone will be appalled. He will likely curse out loud before he slowly strolls up to the stage. This does mean that Ebone will be in his ticked-off mode, making him seem rather unlikeable for those who are viewing the games. He will be wearing his Christmas hat, along with a red shirt, green trousers and a pair of black trainers: Nothing too glitzy. Interview Strategy/Outfit: In the interviews, Ebone will be his natural cheery self. In order to get sponsors, he will make jokes with the interviewer and wish everybody luck for the games. Should he be asked about his behaviour at the reapings, he’ll just say that he was just overcome by a sudden bout of anger. He will wear a red suit trimmed with white faux fur and a black belt, along with black boots. Bloodbath Strategy: Ebone will mostly wait just beyond the tribute plates for his allies, so that he doesn’t get caught up in the bloodshed. That doesn’t mean to say he won’t go for a backpack, but only if it’s really close and it looks like nobody else wants to steal it. Should anybody try to give chase, he will run away empty-handed (unless he has a backpack) without his allies. Trivia * Ebone was made as a Christmas present for Alex by Cait. * His inspiration came from the character of Ebenezer Scrooge in 'A Christmas Carol' by Charles Dickens. * Ebone is a shortened version of Ebenezer, whilst Claus comes from Santa Claus. Category:ClovelyMarvelous's Tributes Category:Characters Category:Tributes Category:Males Category:District 10 Category:14 year olds Category:Reaped Category:ClovelyMarvelous Category:PoisonedPoetry